


Fragments

by flightinflame



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Charles Xavier in a Wheelchair, Family Fluff, Ficlet Collection, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:54:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22245922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: Short Cherik ficlets based on one word prompts.Fic 8: Leap Year - Erik had once thought Charles solely a man of science and logic and reason. But over time he had realised there was too much English blood in him for that.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 128
Kudos: 57





	1. Cherik Parents

**Author's Note:**

> Cherik Parents - Erik has an unusual problem and comes to Charles for help.  
> Thank you Lavenderlotion for proofreading this!

Charles stared at the man stood in his doorway, and took a deep breath.  
"Erik."

"Charles," Erik said, and with that helmet gone Charles could feel the terror that was pouring off of him. "I need your help."

How many times had Charles dreamed of that. On his worst days, he dreamed of hearing that and slamming the door in Erik's face, telling him that he made this mess and had to handle it. But he'd always known he couldn't refuse Erik. Not when Erik needed him. In the past year, the brotherhood had been causing chaos for the government, trying to free mutants who had been experimented on. There were more of those than Charles wanted to admit. More than he'd wanted to acknowledge. And when they freed them, they brought the mutants to the school as a home, and Erik had never stayed past dropping them off. And yet here he was.

"What is it?" Charles asked, frowning as he felt something poking at his mind. He slammed down his shields, and there was a soft whimper.

"You can't hurt them..." Erik murmured. "I... I think it's just temporary, but...." He motioned to one side, and a troop of small children stepped out from where they had been hidden against the wall. One, he recognised immediately. The little blue skinned girl looked up at him and frowned.  
"Charles?" She asked, and when he nodded she rushed forwards and embraced him tightly, then climbed into his lap.

"Raven you're-"

"Little? Mister... Mister Erik said...he'd bring me to you, he said you were older and you can't walk any more but... but Emma said he was saying the truth-"  
A blonde girl, all of eight years old and with her hair neatly plaited, waved up at him.  
"Hello Mister Charles."

Charles couldn't help smiling back at her as he hugged his sister, looking at the rest of the group. There was a little red skinned boy of around nine, who was clinging to the edge of Erik's cape, while a little girl of around four with dragonfly wings was talking in animated Spanish to a darkhaired boy, no older than six. He was watching her very closely, and occasionally either nodding or shaking his head.

"You... really did get yourself into a mess this time, didn't you?"

"I was busy working on breaking into a vault, they were meant to be clearing the upper levels." Erik explained. "I don't suppose you speak Russian?"

"I'm afraid not. But I can try and communicate telepathically." Charles offered, sending a wave of reassurance at Azazel. The boy glared at him, and ducked behind Erik's leg. Erik patted his hair in an attempt to soothe him. 

"Charles... I... I need to take them somewhere safe, until they recover, and..."

"I'll help you" Charles murmured, looking at his sister. He could never refuse her help if she needed it, and he couldn't turn away children.

"Just... just like that? You'll agree to help me even after everything we've been through?" Erik looked at him confused. "Or... do you want me to leave them here?"

"You stay," Charles said simply. "You came home. We can face this together."


	2. Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cold - Bobby is up on the roof. Erik goes up to talk to him.

_Erik, dear?_ Charles's voice broke through Erik's thoughts, and he frowned. Charles was teaching, and normally when Charles had a class nothing at all could distract him from teaching.

 _Yes?_ Erik shot back, trying to not sound too concerned even if this was very unusual for him. He had a free lesson, and was sitting in his room trying to work on how to help the new boy, Bobby, with his ability when he seemed afraid of it.

_Bobby got up on the roof. He's not... he just needs to think, but I don't feel he should be alone up there._

_I'm on my way_ Erik promised, looking up and realising a thin mist of ice had settled against his window. He pushed it open, and used his ability to pull himself onto the roof using the gutterings. He settled down on the tiles, glancing over at the boy who was sat by a chimney, gazing out, ice spider-webbing out from his hands across the tiles.  
"Hello?" Erik greeted him. "Bobby, isn't it?"

The boy nodded, gazing out across the landscape in silence.  
"Yes. Bobby," he mumbled eventually, then closed his eyes.

"What are you doing up here?"

"Just... thinking," the boy muttered, and Erik wished it was Charles that was up here, even though logically there was no way Charles could make it up on to the roof. 

"Want to talk about it?" Erik asked, pulling some coins from his pocket and making them float, knowing that demonstrating his ability was something that would draw attention, help distract the boy.

"He told my parents I'm clever. I mean, I'm not... I'm not really clever, but..." Bobby sighed. "He says they won't remember what I can..." he looked down at the ice, and took a deep breath. "They'll think I'm normal. That I'm just at a school for clever children, not..." He shook his head. "And then I can go home for holidays, once I've got it under control."

"That's good, isn't it?" Erik asked softly, and Bobby shrugged, curling up smaller, lifting his hand and watching as snowflakes cascaded from it.

"I don't know if I can control it," Bobby answered, shrugging a little and brought his knees up to his chest. "And even if I do... They won't love me, will they? They won't love... _me_. Just who they think I am. What... What they think I am."

Erik looked at him sadly. This was the kind of thing Charles was good at. Charles would know what to say, and at worst he could always take those memories and concerns from the boy. But Charles couldn't get up on the roof, so it fell to him.

"No," Erik said honestly. "They don't. They don't love you." The boy shivered, and Erik reached out and ruffled his hair. "But they don't need to. You've got us now, and we're going to help you." 

That probably wasn't the right answer. It was probably not what the boy needed to hear. It wasn't a solution. But it was what he could offer him. 

Bobby nodded hesitantly, and Erik smiled.  
"You know what you could do with your powers though, if you wanted to?"

"What?" Bobby asked.

Erik gestured at the wide expanse of the lawn, then pointed at the large fountain.  
"Could you freeze it?"

"I... I think so..." The boy agreed.

Erik smiled.  
"Do you think we could go ice skating?"

Bobby nodded, and Erik took his hand, leading him down from the roof.


	3. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fire - Erik and Charles babysit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some shameless warming fluff!

Erik frowned at the little boy he'd been left holding. Normally he'd be out with the rest of what had once been the Brotherhood, but after their last mission, where he'd been severely injured, he'd been left behind. He'd managed to save all of them, to hold back the worst of the explosion with only minor burns, and as a result he'd been left to recuperate. Which meant that he was benched, and literally left holding the baby.

"Why?" He stared at the child, as the little one made another grab for his hand, his three fingers grasping for Erik's. "Why are you so fascinated by my hand?" He rolled his eyes, and let the boy grab it, enduring the sharp point of the child's tail prodding at his fingers with as much forbearance and dignity as he could manage.

"He really is quite taken with you," Charles said from the other side of the chess board. They were meant to be playing a match, but it turned out playing chess within the range of Kurt's tail was a frustrating experience for every one of them. Technically Erik could pin the metal pieces into place with his ability, but it wasn't exactly making the game enjoyable.

"I wish he wasn't," Erik muttered, bouncing the infant in his arms and humming to him, tunes he half remembered from longer ago than he cared to think of.

"Well," Charles paused. "I could always go into his mind. There's so much affection towards you there, I could snuff it out like a candle-"

"No!" Erik's voice raised slightly, horrified at the suggestion, and Kurt began to sob in his arms. Charles rolled his eyes, reaching towards his forehead, and a moment later the child quieted, settling back against Erik.

"Charles, we shouldn't mess around in his head."

"It was only a ...tiny bit..." Charles muttered. "He was scared that you yelled."

"Because you scared me." Erik pointed out, and Charles nodded.

"I was joking, Erik. I don't want to affect the fondness the boy has for you..." Charles moved closer. "Even if I am a little jealous."

"You can be fond of me too. There isn't a limit."

"I know," Charles laughed softly. "But right now you are concerned and focused pretty much entirely on him, and I feel left out."

"Well if you were as cute as him-" Erik answered, waving his hand and guiding Charles's wheelchair closer. Charles rolled his eyes, but he leaned in for a gentle kiss. Kurt grabbed for Charles's hand, clutching onto him and Erik with the single-minded determination only an infant was capable of.

"I could take him for a little?" Charles offered, glancing Erik's arm, still bandaged after the explosion. Erik knew that there was no point in pretending it wasn't causing him pain, so he handed the boy over. Charles embraced him and ruffled his hair, and then a moment later the boy was back in Erik’s arms, leaving behind a cloud of blue smoke.

Charles pouted slightly, and tried to reach for the boy, but he refused to let go.

Erik yawned.   
"Chess isn't working. Let's just cuddle by the fire?"

Charles nodded, moving his chair over and transferring onto the couch. Erik stood up, biting down a hiss of pain at the movement, carrying Kurt over, and then settling down in front of the fireplace, using his powers to stoke the fire, to use the tongs to lift another log into the flames. Charles's head rested on his shoulder, and Erik smiled contentedly to himself.

He felt the car approach, and then there was a hint of sulphur in the air, and a moment later Kurt had vanished from his lap. He twisted, glancing back to find Janos with his arms full of Kurt, bouncing the boy fondly as Kurt signed up at him as best as he could, talking animatedly all the while. Azazel looked Erik in the eye and nodded.  
"The mission was success. Can tell you later. For now we need to look after our boy."

Before Erik could respond, the three of them had disappeared. Charles yawned, cuddling up on Erik's side, and Erik could feel how Charles was scanning his mind, waiting for any sign that the movement was hurting him.

Erik adjusted the two of them, lying with his arms around Charles, watching how the firelight flickered off his skin. Charles was beautiful, angelic even. He leaned forwards, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Charles looked up at him.  
"We can talk to them later. They found a hint of where Stryker has been hiding, and there were no deaths."

Erik nodded, cuddling Charles close, letting the warmth of the fire wash over them.

***

Alone again, the three of them, Janos smiled to himself, signing goodnight to his partner and their son. He curled up against Azazel's side, feeling his tail wrap around Janos's thigh, pulling him close. A moment later, he felt a smaller tail grip on his arm. 

The candle on the mantlepiece flickered, and Janos sent a gust of wind to blow it out, cuddled up against his family.


	4. Classes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic 4: Classes - Running a school is hard.

Charles had always wanted to help people. He'd known that for as long as he could remember. Knowing the form that would take - helping others like him, giving them a home, a family, a life - that had been obvious too, for almost as long. From the moment he had first met Raven, standing in his kitchen late at night, afraid and alone and painfully hungry. He had known then that things had to change, that this was his calling, his purpose. He had never been one for faith - he overheard too much hypocrisy for that. But if he had certainty about anything, it was the fact his role was to help those who had nothing.

And that was where the idea of a school had arisen. After Cuba, after the pain of relearning how to live, and doubting in himself, and realising that there were so many minds he had brushed - he had chosen to take a step forwards into the light, rather than fade away totally into the darkness that on his worst nights he could feel threatening.

The school gave him a purpose. It made it easier to face life, to find positives, to find hope. It meant that when Erik appeared, walking back into his life as though he'd never been away, Charles could find a space for him. It was the culmination of a lifetime of work, and the fulfilment of a dream that had been with him since his earliest memories.

It was also, at times, the most frustrating exercise Charles had ever had to deal with.

Because for all that the humans claimed to be nothing like mutants, for all that they would deny their fundamental shared nature - mutant teenagers were very much like human teenagers. They had their infatuations, their secrets, their dalliances and misadventures, their friendships and their fights. They had days when they couldn't be bothered to do homework, and people they would talk to rather than focus. The scale of the school allowed for individual attention, but at times could create an almost claustrophobic atmosphere. Stories spread like wildfire, and the children were always finding new and surprising ways to cause difficulties.

Charles loved his job, but some days he really didn't like it very much.

He stared down at the blank page ahead of him, trying to work out what to do next, tapping his pen on the paper. He heard the door swing open, Erik's mind making its way along the corridor, and then he stepped inside, gently tugging Charles's wheelchair back from the table.

"Erik, that's impolite," Charles said coldly, although he perked up at the smell of tea. 

Erik moved to sit on the desk, careful to avoid any of Charles's carefully arranged paperwork, a metal tray with two cups of tea floating beside him. Charles cleared a spot for it, and reached for his cup.  
"I suppose I can forgive your rudeness if you bring me tea."

"I did hope you might," Erik answered, leaning in for a brief brush of lips, before pulling back and floating his own cup to him. Charles hid a smile at the paperclip that had been wrapped around the handle. Erik always insisted such considerations were practical - which they were. But that didn't make it any less amusing to see.

Erik looked down at the paperwork.  
"What is it this time?"

"I've been struggling with some of the teachers. Hank is getting frustrated with science - apparently the eleven year olds aren't mastering physics with quite the skill he would like. He's good with the younger students, and with the older teenagers, but he's getting frustrated with the pre-teens. And honestly I can't blame them. Even Kitty was misbehaving last lesson - she fell asleep and fell through into the class below. We're lucky it was Darwin teaching." 

"So have someone else teach that class, give Hank the maths with the older students, I know you do that but you can handle pre-teen physics and honestly, Hank can't." Erik looked over the papers. "You'd have to swap your history session there, so that you don't need to be in two places at once, but Alex is doing sport then and is free at this point."

Charles stared up at Erik, sheer devotion shining in his eyes.  
"I love you."

"You love that I can work out your timetables."

"That too," Charles conceded. "Now, I've been thinking."

"It'll never catch on," Erik muttered, waving over a seat and sitting down. "What is it?"

"Jimmy." Charles drew out a rough seating plan. "Marie is always happy to sit with him, and he's a brilliant student, but..." Charles looked up at Erik, and Erik's nod showed he understood - that Jimmy's power neutralising ability was upsetting some students. "...Well, he's not trying to be any bother, but I've heard him get upset before when some of the older children have got angry with him. I've talked to them about every ability being a gift, and rearranged seating when necessary - there's a girl who uses her abilities for note taking, and then obviously Irene can't have him at the front of her classes-" 

"But you don't want him to be a punishment."

"I don't want him sat alone, and yes... I can't do that to him. I don't want him to hear students threatened with being sat near to him. And it would make life so much easier if he could sit with John and help prevent books catching light, but..." 

Erik squeezed his shoulder in silent agreement. Despite the difficulties the students held, taking their gifts by sitting the with Jimmy would be cruel to both the student and to the young boy. Erik looked down at the seating plan, frowning a little as he concentrated.

"What about Scott? It'll be easier for him. Kurt, Jubilee... Jean can sit on Scott's other side unless her shielding is hurt. Then Marie there -" Erik pointed out seats, and Charles scribbled the names down. "You'll be risking chaos by having that group all close, but none of them rely on powers in class, and being with Jimmy letting them be near their friends will help make sure they're sympathetic to him."

Charles looked at the paper for a few more seconds, before he looked up and smiled, nodding slowly.  
"You are brilliant, you know that? I could kiss you."

Erik leaned down to let him do just that.

Running a school was hard, but having Erik's support made it a lot easier.


	5. Hired Boyfriend - AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic 5: Hired Boyfriend - (AU) Charles has a proposition for Erik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Warnings for discussions of child abuse and alcoholism)

“Erik…” Charles sighed, wheeling himself along faster to keep up with the other man. “Look, I said I’m sorry. It was a stupid suggestion, I just-”

“Charles, you just offered to pay me to go on a date with you.”

“I offered to pay you,” Charles tried to pick his words carefully, because okay he could see how that had sounded bad from where Erik was standing. “I offered to pay you to come to my step-father’s annual gathering as a bodyguard, posing as my date.”

“I don’t need your money.” Erik kicked at the pavement, and Charles stayed quiet, not pointing out what both of them knew - Erik did need money, and at the moment very few people would be willing to hire a mutant.

“I know. Look. It’s just because they’re going shooting later, and I never trust them not to… decide to … ‘put me out of my misery’, I believe was how one of them phrased it. Of course, I can control their minds, but it gets tiring. I would feel safer having you there to deflect any bullet that might be aimed my way.”

“And the fact that you get to annoy your step-father and your mother by bringing along a poor Jewish man has nothing to do with it?”

Charles could have lied. He knew he could even lie in a way that Erik would believe, but Erik deserved better than that. He groaned, pausing and rubbing at his arms because the muscles were stinging.   
“It definitely helped. I’d have asked you anyway… look. It’s not… I know they’ll be drunk, but I don’t think any of them would be stupid enough to actually try and shoot me. And if they’re drunk, they’ll think about it loudly enough I’ll have prior warning. I just hate these gatherings. And having you there would make it more tolerable. That’s all. That’s the truth.”

“If you hate it so much, why don’t you just not go? Rather than drag me somewhere that awful?”

“Because, if my step-father gets very drunk and tries to gamble away my inheritance, I need to be there to protect it. Not just for myself, but for Raven. I … I asked you because I can’t face going alone. But if you can’t - I can ask Raven. Or I’ll manage. I just... “ he sighed, because really there was no way to phrase what he was about to say without it coming across as insensitive. “I thought paying you would help out without it being charity.”

Erik stared at him, his mouth pressed into a thin line, and Charles found himself bracing for a blow. He hunched in on himself, and Erik frowned.

“I’ll go on two conditions,” Erik said firmly, and Charles nodded.

“One, you come to my house and meet my mother soon. She’s heard all about you-”

“Erik you live up on the fourth floor-”

“I fixed the elevator,” Erik answered, and Charles smiled slightly. “So you come to dinner, and let my mother look after you, because she’s been listening to my stories and worrying herself silly.”

“Please tell her she doesn’t have to-”

“Charles. You… You are worth help. Which brings me to point two. I’m not going along and pretending to be your boyfriend… no. That’s not…” He sighed to himself. “If you say no, I will still come, and I will keep you safe, and even pretend to be dating you if you want. But I’d like to go as your actual boyfriend.”

“Oh…” Charles blinked, startled by the sincerity of his words.

“If you want to talk to my mother about maybe paying for something then you can, but I’m not… I can’t accept your money Charles. Not for keeping you safe from those bastards.” Erik’s thoughts were blazing protectively. “And if they say something to you, I can’t promise not to hit them.” 

“I suppose I can live with that,” Charles answered, scarce able to believe that his plan had worked. Not only was he no longer afraid of facing the party alone, he’d be doing it with Erik beside him as his lover. He smiled to himself.

Erik looked directly at him, and Charles could feel his mind whirring. He tried to smile innocently.

Erik arched an eyebrow, and then rolled his eyes.  
“You plotting bastard,” he muttered, leaning in for a kiss. Charles decided if Erik was still willing to kiss him, he probably wasn’t that mad.


	6. Messenger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic 6: Messenger - Five times Erik used the Brotherhood to talk to Charles, and one time he did it himself.

1.  
Charles woke up slowly, not really wanting to open his eyes. When he opened his eyes, he had to admit to himself where he was, what was happening, the amount that he had lost. That rather than waking up with Erik in his arms, he would wake up alone, in a cold bed, and knowing that he would have to go to the effort of pulling himself into his wheelchair, spending time in the bathroom going through a far less fun routine than he should have been enjoying with Erik. But then Cuba had happened, and it had been quite clear that Erik never wanted to be part of his life.

There was something rattling at his window, and he didn't want to go and see it. But he looked up, and saw that Angel was there, hovering outside of his window. For a moment, he considered turning her away. Instead, he pulled himself across towards the wheelchair. He saw the moment her eyes settled on the chair, and then she turned around and flew away as though she'd never been there, leaving nothing to prove she had been.

Exhausted, Charles had fallen back to sleep. And when he woke up, he wasn't sure if he had just imagined her presence. It would be easier to convince himself that she had never been there, that he was only dreaming. So that was what he did - he didn't mention it to anyone, and let her visit fade from her memories.

2\.   
_Is it permanent, sugar?_ The voice echoed around his mind, as he watched Alex and Darwin wandering around the grounds hand in hand. He was glad the other man had come home, but it still hurt to see.

_The doctors say I won't walk again._

_I don't give a shit about your legs, darling. I mean this coldness to Erik. It's making him miserable, and it's giving me a headache._

_If he wants to talk, he can talk to me._ Charles snapped back at Shaw's - no, Erik's telepath. He'd replaced Charles so easily. 

_Jealousy isn't a good look on you,_ she answered him, and he could feel the anger there at his assumptions, at his thoughts. _I won't bother you again._ She receded, and Charles took a few steadying breaths, wheeling back from the window. He knew that Shaw's telepath hadn't got as long a range as him. Erik's people were close.

3\.   
A dark haired man, the one who could conjure whirlwinds, approached him in a crowded street, as Alex pushed his chair along. They had gone out shopping for clothes and food, the mansion running low on both. Alex frowned as the man approached, holding out a letter which he silently passed over.

Charles stared down, saw his name in familiar writing, and tore the letter into four, not letting him open it. He dropped the pieces.

The man stared, and with a flick of his fingers the pieces floated back onto his lap. He didn't push them away again, even after the man left. That night, he carefully taped the letter back together, but he didn't open it. He just sat for hours, staring at his name in Erik's writing, and wishing he knew what was happening. But he couldn't bring himself to look.

4\.   
Raven knocked on the door of the mansion, marching through to his office. Charles saw her noticing the chair, the way it drew her gaze a moment too long before she pretended not to have noticed it. She swept him into her arms, crouching awkwardly, and he sobbed into her fiery hair, clinging to her tightly.

"Raven...."

"I'm sorry I left, I don't... could you ever forgive me?"

"I already did." Charles promised. "Raven, can you forgive me? I was so awful to you, you deserved... you deserved so much more than I gave you, I just wanted you safe but I-"

Raven pressed a kiss to his forehead.  
"I forgive you, you idiot. You are my brother. I love you. I've always loved you. Fuck... I will always love you, do you understand?" She pulled away to look into his eyes. "I am staying with Erik. I believe in what he is doing, but I love you, please know that, I-"

"I know," Charles promised, because even without trying to dip into her mind he could hear how loud her thoughts were, how they burned with love and concern and care. "Just...stay in touch."

"I will. Erik asks if you'd like to meet."

Charles hesitated, thinking of that hated helmet, the way Erik had turned away, the silence as the connection between them was cut off forever.  
"I have nothing left to give him that he could want."

Raven's face fell, but she didn't push the matter. She nodded, and squeezed his hand.   
"I can stay for dinner?"

Charles considered refusing, but in the end he chose to let her stay, smiling.   
"There's always a place for you here, Raven."

"I know."

5\.   
After that visit with Raven, there were a few others. Each time, he'd be asked if he wanted to meet with Erik, and he'd always say no, always find an excuse. The founding of a school was hard work, even without the difficulties that came with the fact the students were mutants. He was busy. He could blame his business to hide his fear, and for a while it appeared to work. Raven never pushed, and seemed to be rekindling friendships with the others. Each time he let her leave, he hoped she would return. He was considering trusting Erik again, but every time he tried he remembered that helmet, and the silence, and his fear, and he turned away.

He should have known that what he had to offer would never be enough, not for Erik. One morning he wheeled from his bathroom to find a figure in his room wearing that hated helmet. The man's skin was red, and he stepped forwards. "I will give you two minute to write a note. Erik will see you."

Charles considered calling for Hank, for Alex. But he'd seen this man fight. It would be safest to go along with it, at least for now. And anyway, Erik only had one helmet. If this man was wearing it, Erik wasn't. If Erik took it back, he could commandeer this man to return home. He wheeled to his desk, and quickly jotted down a note, saying that Erik had arranged for him to be kidnapped, and that he would return home soon. 

He put down his pen, looked at the other man and nodded, hoping he would have the sense to transport the wheelchair as well.

+1.   
Charles found himself in a bedroom. The first thing he realised was that the room must have been designed with him in mind - there was a desk, a corner table with a game of chess on, a series of bookshelves - all set at a suitable height. He wheeled towards the chess game, and his thoughts caught as he realised that the game in play was the last one he and Erik had shared. 

The bookshelves were full of his favourite books, and the wardrobe had clothes he would have chosen. He half expected bars on the window, but instead found himself faced with a view of a forest.

He felt Erik's mind approaching, and then there was a knock on his door, before a nervous push against his mind.  
 _Charles?_

Charles thought of shutting him out, refusing to talk, but he couldn't see that working. Reluctantly, he sent back a sense of questioning.

Erik mentally cleared his throat before he started to speak.  
 _I won't come into your room without your permission, and you can ask for Azazel to take you home at any time._ That at least made Charles smile a little, Erik starting off by listing the rules they were playing under, trying to reassure him. He shivered a little, but wheeled closer to the door.

 _I didn't know how badly you were injured. I don't.. I didn't know anything. I can't explain what I did, and I can't ask for your forgiveness. But I will ask to see you again. Please._ Erik begged, and then knocked on his door, and Charles knew he could say no, could demand to be taken home. But this room was set up for him, and that made him pause.

"You can come in. Without your helmet." He said, speaking aloud, setting out the rules for engagement and not knowing if they would be followed. 

They were. The door swung open, and Erik stepped in. He wasn't wearing that hated helmet. He was just wearing a black turtleneck and light trousers, the kind of clothes he had always worn when they were together, and that was a new kind of pain, a kind that made Charles want to cry, but he made himself smile instead. He nodded, and Erik moved to sit on the edge of the bed, to put the two of them at the same height.  
"It's good to see you again, Charles."

Erik held out his hand, and Charles hesitated, and shook his head, but wheeled forwards so they were close enough to touch. Charles looked into his eyes.  
"Hello, Erik."

Erik smiled, and there was a hesitance there that was touching. Charles nodded slowly, and held out his hand, and Erik kissed the back of it, playing at being the gentleman that Charles deserved. Charles looked into his eyes, and let him pretend.


	7. Bathtub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fic 7: Bathtub - Charles used to make paper boats for the bathtub in his parents' room. Over time, it matters in different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - mentions of past neglect and violence against children

Charles remembered being a little kid, barely tall enough to see over the edge of the claw footed bath that stood pride of place in the bathroom attached to his parents en-suite. He remembered standing on tiptoes, dropping paper boats into the water on days that it was raining too hard for him to venture out to the lake.

He remembered finding his mother lying in there, unresponsive, and the awful moment that he had thought she was dead. He remembered when he'd realised she was still breathing, and had felt... not the relief he had expected. Some kind of... not disappointment, no. But an emptiness where he should have had joy, as he'd realised he would have to go and ask his stepfather to drag her out, knowing he wasn't strong enough himself. He'd taken that beating, allowed his stepfather to call him names and yell and hit him in the knowledge that eventually his mother would be rescued from the water.

He steered clear of his mother's room after that, but he still followed her thoughts, dreading every time they went silent, fearing that once more she might be lying there in need of help, without his presence there to rescue her. He felt like a monster, like a failure. It reminded him he wasn't a good son.

So after that night, he didn't think about baths. They reminded him of loss, of the knowledge that he wasn't good enough as a son, and he always showered. 

Until Erik and he had explored the mansion, curious about what was up in rooms that he hadn't thought of stepping into for so long. And Charles had skirted past his mother's bed. and stared at the bathtub.

Erik had raised an eyebrow.

"Look, even if we fill it with water, the water will be cold-" Charles pointed out, and Erik smirked.

"If I warm the water up, will you get in?"

And Charles had agreed, because he loved seeing the myriad of ways Erik could use his power, and watched as Erik heated small spheres of metal, dancing them through the water before moving them aside to climb in, and holding out his arms -

***

Whenever Charles thought of the bath after that night, he didn't think of the cold limpness of his mother's silent mind, or the vast expanse he'd played with as a child. He thought of Erik, and the softness of his lips, and the tenderness of his touch. They had shared several baths together, and showers, and walks in the rain - dozens of intimacies in the few precious weeks they had had in the mansion, before they left for the war.

And Charles had come home without the use of his legs, and Erik hadn't come home at all.

One night, Charles had clambered into the empty bath, dropping his body down, and knowing he lacked the strength to pull himself back out. He lay there, sobbing, and understood why his mother had been there once.

When Erik returned, decades on, things had changed. He had shied away from that bath, from the mixture of memories, from everything that had happened. It was useless to him now, not part of the carefully organised routine that enabled him to cling on to the scraps of independence he had fought for.

***

It was a week after Erik's return to his bed - a month after Erik's return to the mansion, and Erik was pressing gentle kisses to his throat.  
"I missed bathing with you."

"I can't-"

"I spoke to Hank. I could add a platform in the bath, or even a hinge so that you could get in and out... you don't have to, of course, but-"

Charles hesitated. It was easy to say no, to stop himself from considering the possibility, to block the past. But with Erik, he could reclaim it. To move on from what had happened, and to make their space their own.

He paused, and nodded.  
"Erik? Would..." _Would you be able to start over. Crush it down, reshape it into something for us?_

"Gladly." Erik promised, walking forwards and kissing him. "I'd like to do that, to make sure you're comfortable. To share something meaningful with you."

"Everything with you is ..." Charles hesitated, and nodded, and reached out for Erik's hand. "There's space in the bathroom, if we moved where we keep the hoist-"

Erik nodded, and smiled, and Charles kissed him softly. They leaned together, and Erik brushed a kiss to Charles's forehead. "We'll make it work."

Somehow, Charles ended up not doubting that in the least.


	8. Leap Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik had once thought Charles solely a man of science and logic and reason. But over time he had realised there was too much English blood in him for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Traditionally on February 29th women can propose.

Erik had once thought Charles solely a man of science and logic and reason. But over time he had realised there was too much English blood in him for that. Charles would speak of the festivities for various pagan festivals with the same delight as he spoke of mutation, all of it part of the diversity of mankind he loved so much. 

Charles had told him of the Mayday celebrations in Oxford, of choirs singing in the dawn from the rooftops before the more foolhardy students risked their necks jumping from the bridge. Apparently as a student, one of Charles's indulgences had been 'a spot of Morris dancing' dressed in pristine white with jangling bells as little girls skipped around a giant symbol of fertility, or whatever foolishness those in England followed. 

Charles's Morris dancing days were long gone, and despite all his fondness for the man, Erik was sure he would have looked ridiculous. Still, there were so many traditions of differing kinds, and they were fascinating in their own ways. 

Erik was intrigued. Among the books listing stories of boat burnings and football games, green men and sunlit processions, there was one tradition that stood out. 

Laws being what they were, he and Charles could not marry. Their acts within the privacy of their own rooms were only recently legal. And yet, there was something here which called to him. After all, Erik had very little regard for human law, and breaking that whilst indulging in Charles's pagan dalliances seemed fitting. 

Charles sent a wave of mental affection. _Planning on dancing naked in moonlight?_

 _No._ Erik snapped, then sent Charles a mental image that made him return the sensation of a kiss. 

Erik got to work, shaping careful strands of metal, copying the elegant patterning of Damascus steel. He was utterly focused on his work, paying the outside world no mind until his task was complete. 

The day came, and he woke his lover with a kiss, before going to prepare breakfast. Charles groaned. 

_In Oxford for Mayday you woke for the choir singing at five._

_In Oxford for Mayday I stayed out until after the choir sung at five._ Charles groused, but got himself ready as Erik made a picnic, placing a blanket on the lawn over the dew covered grass.

Charles joined him, accepting the thermos of tea as Erik lifted Charles down onto the blanket, sitting beside him. 

"Are you ready?"

Charles nodded, and Erik pulled out the ring.   
"For today at least, let's pretend we can do this. Will you?"

"Gladly." Charles held his hand out, and Erik floated the ring on, adjusting the size so it was a perfect fit. "A ceremony with our friends perhaps. There were male weddings in historic times, perhaps one day they will happen again. Until then, this will be enough. To marry you in the eyes of our family… human laws in this case are meaningless." He brought his hand to his face, examining the ring closely. "Beautiful work my love."

Erik nodded, then paused. "Does this mean we can only celebrate every four years?"

"A four day celebration every fourth year, and smaller celebrations at other points, I believe." Charles insisted. Erik knew that wasn't a tradition. But if Charles wished for it, they should make it one. 


End file.
